SHISHIR SIKTA KHARJUR VIITHI
KANT́AKE THARATHARI
ÁSIÁCHE SHIITA JAMÁNO TUHINE
NAVA HIMAVÁH GAŔI
KANT́AKE THARATHARI
PASHU PAKŚIIRÁ CHUT́E CALE JÁY
DÚR HOTE DÚR DESHE
PRÁŃERA TÁGIDE UTTÁP PETE
NAVA SÚRYER ÁSHE
MADHU KAHLÁR PHOT́E NÁKO ÁR
SALÁJ MÁDHURI BHARI
KANT́AKE THARATHARI
ÁJ BOLO KÁR INGITE
EI KÁMPAN JÁGÁNO PRÁTE
RANGE BHARÁ DHARÁ HOLO SÁJ HÁRÁ
ELO JOGI RÚP DHARI
KANT́AKE THARATHARI
Sending shivers down the lanes
of thorny date trees,
moist with dew,
winter has come with encrusted snow,
building new glaciers of ice.
The birds and animals rush away to far off lands
to preserve their lives and enjoy warmth,
in the hope of finding a new sun.
The water lily no longer blooms with blushing sweetness.
Tell me, today, at whose call, in this chilly dawn,
did the beautiful earth became bare?
Winter came, like an ascetic yogi.